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Let me talk about the change of male attitudes to women at workplace that I have seen over all of 60 years...from misplaced chivalry to morbid fear of them.
In our school in the early 1950s we had just two lady teachers. One of them, Ranemma, a devout old Christian lady who gifted cute Christmas cards to my father who was her HM. We loved the cards and Father must have cherished them and gave her off for two or three extra days during the holy season.
We kids never made any ruckus in her classes though her knowledge of the English she taught us in our second form was not exactly deep...I asked her once in the class why all nouns ending in 's', like 'goats, cats, and dogs' were plural, but verbs ending in 's' like 'says, pays, and plays' are singular. She patted me gently on my left cheek...it must have been bonny then unlike now.
Then there was this Annapurnamma, a Tamilian lady settled in AP. She was young, brahmin, but unwed since she had two younger sisters and two younger brothers to look after...her father retired conveniently by then. It is said in our households that one shouldn't be the first-born in brahmins and last-born in bestas (fishermen). I can't figure out exactly why so about fishermen but know all about brahmins.
Annapurnamma taught us maths in our fifth form. She was somewhat timid and soft-spoken and the backbenchers (who by then became mid-teens) used to softly whistle in her class. When she brought this to the notice of Father, he was very protective to her and fined the bad boys heftily...the proceeds went to the Poor Boys Fund.
Then there was this very young handsome brahmin gent, just out of college, whose first posting happened to be in our school. Father, himself an orthodox brahmin, had a certain soft corner for brahmin youth who struggled hard to get a government posting. This gent was teaching math in our sixth form. In his class there was this teenaged beautiful girl, daughter of the richest Reddy of Muthukur. And after our Quarterly Exams, our answer-scripts used to be given away to the students for keeps.
When she inspected her script she found, unexpectedly, bloated marks on every problem, which must have pleased her. But on the last but one page of her script, there was what used to be called a love-letter to her scribbled in the nice handwriting of her teacher. I don't know if she was pleased with that love letter...female psychology being a closed book to me...I am no Maugham. But it transpired that she showed it to her papa. And the Lord of Muthukur was furious and ran to the HM's office with his proverbial horsewhip.
Apparently, Father acted as a soother and called in his mathematician and asked him to touch the feet of the Reddy...a thing no brahmin would then do under normal circumstances. And the Reddy was mighty pleased.
The upshot of this was that Father asked his brahmin teacher to apply for a Request Transfer. He was sent away to a far-off school, and we all felt sorry for him as he was a brilliant teacher, quoting shlokas from the Gita when he was not busy penning love letters.
And the Reddy withdrew our heart-throb from the school at once and got her married to an illiterate but rich bridegroom of his caste.
Sigh!
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In our school in the early 1950s we had just two lady teachers. One of them, Ranemma, a devout old Christian lady who gifted cute Christmas cards to my father who was her HM. We loved the cards and Father must have cherished them and gave her off for two or three extra days during the holy season.
We kids never made any ruckus in her classes though her knowledge of the English she taught us in our second form was not exactly deep...I asked her once in the class why all nouns ending in 's', like 'goats, cats, and dogs' were plural, but verbs ending in 's' like 'says, pays, and plays' are singular. She patted me gently on my left cheek...it must have been bonny then unlike now.
Then there was this Annapurnamma, a Tamilian lady settled in AP. She was young, brahmin, but unwed since she had two younger sisters and two younger brothers to look after...her father retired conveniently by then. It is said in our households that one shouldn't be the first-born in brahmins and last-born in bestas (fishermen). I can't figure out exactly why so about fishermen but know all about brahmins.
Annapurnamma taught us maths in our fifth form. She was somewhat timid and soft-spoken and the backbenchers (who by then became mid-teens) used to softly whistle in her class. When she brought this to the notice of Father, he was very protective to her and fined the bad boys heftily...the proceeds went to the Poor Boys Fund.
Then there was this very young handsome brahmin gent, just out of college, whose first posting happened to be in our school. Father, himself an orthodox brahmin, had a certain soft corner for brahmin youth who struggled hard to get a government posting. This gent was teaching math in our sixth form. In his class there was this teenaged beautiful girl, daughter of the richest Reddy of Muthukur. And after our Quarterly Exams, our answer-scripts used to be given away to the students for keeps.
When she inspected her script she found, unexpectedly, bloated marks on every problem, which must have pleased her. But on the last but one page of her script, there was what used to be called a love-letter to her scribbled in the nice handwriting of her teacher. I don't know if she was pleased with that love letter...female psychology being a closed book to me...I am no Maugham. But it transpired that she showed it to her papa. And the Lord of Muthukur was furious and ran to the HM's office with his proverbial horsewhip.
Apparently, Father acted as a soother and called in his mathematician and asked him to touch the feet of the Reddy...a thing no brahmin would then do under normal circumstances. And the Reddy was mighty pleased.
The upshot of this was that Father asked his brahmin teacher to apply for a Request Transfer. He was sent away to a far-off school, and we all felt sorry for him as he was a brilliant teacher, quoting shlokas from the Gita when he was not busy penning love letters.
And the Reddy withdrew our heart-throb from the school at once and got her married to an illiterate but rich bridegroom of his caste.
Sigh!
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